Reset! The garden awakes and so do I

What a difference a day makes! The first thing I do every morning (even before coffee) is to look out of the window at the sky and my garden area below.  

Just a basin of bulbs popping up

Yesterday it was predictably another day of grey skies and rain. Today, the garden seemed to sparkle under the early morning weak sun. Hurrah!

The sky shows promise of a good dry day ahead, perhaps even a hint of sun. Days like this lift my mood instantly - the potential to get things done and, even now in early February, there are seeds to sow (sweet peas, chillies, peas for balcony pots) and beds to mulch ready for this year's veg and flower seeds.

But first, I have to apologise for neglecting this blog and, in part, the gardens.  I had every intention of returning to a regular writing schedule last year but, as you can see, it didn't happen. There were just too many distractions in the real world not least of which was a neighbour who wanted my* garden cleared of plants and shrubs so that he could sit on a bench in the sunshine.  All this despite him having a south facing balcony.  

(* garden areas here are allocated to any tenant who wants to look after them so, strictly speaking, not my garden but land belonging to the housing association who have allowed me to take responsibility for it.)

The garden in question was one I have been custodian of during the past eighteen years. I have dug, chopped, reclaimed, redesigned and planted. It has plants brought back from my mother's garden after she died ... so, no, I was not going to let it go easily and stated my case.  The garden is now firmly back under my control. Whew.  (Sorry but, wow, that felt good getting that off my chest!)

It's the start of a new season but allow me a brief look back over last year. 

There were far too many failures in the veg garden - newly planted peas and kale were munched, tomatoes didn't ripen in time or were hit by blight, herbs languished, carrots didn't plump up ... shall I go on? And I spent most of my time helping others in their gardens to the detriment of my own spaces. And, yes, I did get totally sidetracked by flowers while my planted veg were decimated by heat, drought, slugs or just sheer neglect. 

But, as they say in Moominland ...

My gardening mantra

So ... slug defences at the ready (beer traps not pellets), seed box sorted (fresh seeds only), and compost bought.  Weeds have been tackled on a regular basis, perennials like gooseberries and roses have been pruned, strawberries have been tidied, lots of self seeded plants (foxgloves, calendula, forget-me-nots) are gradually being transplanted or ruthlessly cleared to make space for future veg.  

I still have to sort out my Hotbin composter; that was another sadly neglected area last year and any compost left in there is likely to be anaerobic now and too acidic.  But it's definitely worth saving; in the past (yes this has happened more than once, oops), I've spread the compost out on top of one of the beds and then tickled it in after a few days with no disastrous results.  In fact, I've read elsewhere that plants such as squash thrive on it.  Sounds exciting!

So, whether you're new to this blog or a returning reader, will you join me on my journey this year? 

Caro x

Nature abhors a vacuum

It seems such a short while ago that I donned thermal layers to weather the cold outside and watched not very patiently for signs of growth in the garden. At last we had some warm hot weather, a tad earlier than expected while the veg patch was still in spring mode, covered in forget-me-nots and daffodils. 

It looked wonderfully frothy ... mainly because it was too early to plant anything. 

Move on a few weeks and I now have to steel myself to ruthlessly remove (some of) the flowers in order to make space for some veg. The forget-me-nots can be pulled out once they've seeded themselves (thank you May winds) but the calendula, linaria and foxgloves will be keeping the bees and pollinators happy for a bit longer. 

I did actually make a start clearing and mulching this area in late winter ... tidying the strawberries, removing some of the raspberry canes that had crept too close to the path, and digging up last year's Jerusalem artichokes (somewhat optimistically hoping that I did actually find them all). 

And having waited patiently for the gentle warmth of spring - ie keeping late March or April in mind to start sowing seeds - a tiny heatwave jump started the heat of summer and denied us any much needed April rain. The hosepipe came out, the water butts were topped up. 

The result? A veg patch of self sown forget-me-nots, calendula, linaria, foxgloves, feverfew, ox-eye daisies and a host of identifiable weeds.  And a windowsill at home full of veg waiting to be planted out. 

On the plus side, the quince tree canopy has spread providing a nice shady spot for spinach. At least, that was the plan but when I walked around the patch this morning, a small meadow seems to have sprung up in the shade of the quince. Very pretty but oops. 

It all looks rather beautiful to my mind - I absolutely adore the zingy oranges, peppermint pinks and purple hues - and love the sounds of bees making the most of this early season bounty.  I admit I've spent more hours admiring the flowers than working in this plot.  

But now it's time. The forget-me-nots are starting to seed all over the garden for next year, last year's pink chard and Cavolo kale have finished and need to be removed, as does the garlic that never bulbed up. 

And, no, I didn't get all the sunchokes out, there seems to be a fair amount of those popping up again. Oops. (But maybe not.)

Tulips and a grand Day Out in Sussex

Spring is such an exciting time and every day there's something new to see in the garden. But there was extra excitement for me this past week as this town mouse went to the Sussex countryside on a day trip to Gravetye Manor.  

Gravetye is the historical home of William Robinson, a renowned gardener/writer of the late Victorian era who pioneered wild gardening during a period when formal bedding-plant style prevailed. Gravetye Manor is now run as a rather grand hotel and Michelin starred restaurant but Robinson's gardens have been maintained in keeping with his ideas on natural beauty. As expected, they are a visual delight all year round.

Why was I there? Well, the occasion was a talk from award winning garden designer Jo Thompson about her latest book 'The New Romantic Garden'. This was followed by a delicious lunch* and a stroll around the gardens where thousands of tulips, euphorbia, forget-me-nots and fern-leaved Sweet Cicely gave that spring sparkle to the borders in the Flower Garden.

I'm rather envious as my own stalwarts of spring, the hefty amount of tulips planted in previous years, have more or less vanished. There's a reason for this as I was to learn. Allegedly the tulips that can be bought in bulk from the nursery or garden centre are not as robust or dependable as those ordered from specialist bulb suppliers. No prizes for guessing where my bulbs were from. 

Or it could have been that mine just rotted as a result of torrential rain last year. 

So there's my lesson.  Now I know that if I want to keep the best ones, they should be lifted, dried and stored. I'm wondering if I can be bothered. And some species of tulip are more perennial than others as we learned from Tom Coward who, let's face it, knows.  

Tom has been the head gardener at Gravetye for the past fifteen years and imparted much wisdom to us about managing the gardens and, especially, tulips. We were told that 5,000 tulips had been planted in just three days last November (no, they don't have a vast team of gardeners) and that the best time to plant the bulbs is November or December.  (I sort of knew that, but not why.)

But notably, (pay attention please), if the bulbs are planted when the weather is still mild, the bulbs get warm and rot. (Note to self: don't store the bulbs indoors! And don't be tempted to plant while the weather is still relatively pleasant. And, yes, it's okay to plant the bulbs in January, they'll just flower later.)

Tom also mentioned Anna Pavord's book, 'The Tulip', as a jolly good read on the subject; my copy was retrieved from the bookshelf forthwith.

Another surprising revelation came when Tom showed us a small pot of tulips that he had grown from saved seed. Wow. Big respect. This is definitely one for the extremely patient gardener as the seeds take four years to grow. Impressive ... but not something I'll be trying any day soon. Although, as Tom pointed out, if you do this every year, after the first four years you'll have new tulips every year. 

To round off the tour, Tom took us up to the famous, and very large, oval walled kitchen garden. Built by Robinson on a slope to catch all available light, the symbiotic relationship between the kitchen and this garden continues.  Menus are planned to make use of what's growing there. Obviously there's not much that can be harvested at this time of year but an edible posy of wild garlic was included with our meal. 

In the garden long rows of beans are fleeced against pheasants, flowers for the house are starting to grow, herbs spill over the path edges under step over apples and broad beans and winter veg stood ready for harvest; it all looked very pretty. And, just outside the garden gates, who wouldn't want a hut like this to work from?

So, after this and to end the day, we were left to wander through the rest of the gardens, admiring blossom and camassia in the Orchard. This would have been the perfect end to a perfect day ... if we hadn't got stuck in traffic for two hours in the heat behind a road traffic accident. Ah well, you can't have it all.

Let me leave you with this lovely view walking down from the kitchen garden in Gravetye.

William Robinson's spirit lives on .... 

* 'lunch'  doesn't convey the fabulous meal we had; tasty, beautiful and locally sourced fine dining with delicious wine would be a better, if more wordy, description.